


we could be made for this

by stereosymbiosis



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, No Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereosymbiosis/pseuds/stereosymbiosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent lifts his head and peers up at Jack.  “Hey, Zimms, what kind of soap do you use?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure this is entirely relevant, Parse,” Jack breathes out.  Kent looks at the expanse of skin stretched before him, Jack’s muscles taut and twitching, the fucking perfect rise of Jack’s ass, Jack’s legs spread just so and his knees pressed into the mattress for leverage, and yeah.  That can probably wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could be made for this

**Author's Note:**

> thank you, [doxian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian), for beta-reading this!

Here’s the thing: Jack Zimmermann has an amazing butt. Everyone knows this -- there’s a goddamn Twitter account with over fifty-thousand followers that’s dedicated solely to posting pictures of Jack’s backside. Kent doesn’t follow it, because people would inevitably notice that a NHL player started following an account dedicated to _another_ well-known player’s ass, and he doesn’t really feel like being at the center of a scandal. But that doesn’t stop him from checking the account every so often and seeing Jack’s hordes of fans say absolutely filthy things about the butt (and other body parts) in question.

Kent doesn’t need a Twitter account to tell him when he’s got something good in front of him. And boy, is it in front of him -- he breathes out, slow and warm, across the skin of Jack’s lower back and watches goosebumps prickle up along the curve of his ass and the tops of his thighs. Jack full-on fucking whimpers, even though Kent hasn’t even really laid a hand on him yet, and Kent can’t help but drop his head onto the back of Jack’s thigh and laugh.

“What is it,” Jack says, his voice muffled from talking into his pillow. He sounds hazy and distracted, so Kent bites right where his thigh and ass curve together to bring him back to this planet. Jack just whines a little more and presses himself further into the mattress.

“I’m just thinking about how all your Twitter followers would be really jealous of me right now,” Kent says.

Jack raises himself onto an elbow and glances back over his shoulder. “I don’t have a Twitter,” he says, his brows furrowed.

“Unfortunately for you, you kinda do,” Kent says, and Jack looks confused for all of two seconds before Kent squeezes his ass and starts mouthing at one of his asscheeks. Jack groans and falls back down onto his stomach, the mattress springs creaking loudly at the impact. Kent ghosts a finger along the length of Jack’s asscrack, and Jack’s hips stutter, like he’s not sure if he wants to move up into Kent’s touch or down to grind his cock into the mattress.

Jack’s fresh-out-of-the-shower skin is so soft underneath Kent’s palms, and he smells so damn good. Kent inhales deeply, and he can’t place the flowery scent of whatever soap Jack had used, because it just smells like _Jack_ \-- familiar and sweet and delicious. Whatever girly scent it is, cherry blossoms or jasmine or hibiscus or whatever the fuck, Kent swears he’d pop a boner if someone plopped a bouquet of them in front of him, because he’d breathe in and Jack would fill his senses.

Kent lifts his head and peers up at Jack. “Hey, Zimms, what kind of soap do you use?”

“I’m not sure this is entirely relevant, Parse,” Jack breathes out. Kent looks at the expanse of skin stretched before him, Jack’s muscles taut and twitching, the fucking perfect rise of Jack’s ass, Jack’s legs spread just so and his knees pressed into the mattress for leverage, and yeah. That can probably wait.

“I suppose,” Kent sighs, and he nudges Jack up a little to put a pillow under his hips. He kneads the flesh of Jack’s ass in his palms, spreads Jack’s asscheeks and lowers his mouth to the top of the crack, trailing his tongue up and down, lightly, never quite reaching his hole. A low, needy whine escapes from Jack’s throat, and he pushes his ass back into Kent’s face while rubbing his cock against the pillow. Kent tightens his grip, stilling Jack’s hips, and Jack mutters, “Shit, sorry,” and Kent squeezes his side once, reassuringly. His tongue swoops down to Jack’s perineum, and he licks slow circles and figure-eights there and trails his tongue upward, sucking lightly, still not at Jack’s asshole.

Jack is panting, his muscles tight. Kent finally laps lightly at Jack’s hole, barely even passing his tongue over it, but Jack fucking loses it; he heaves a breath and one of his legs twitches involuntarily and his head pops up so he can look over his shoulder. Kent lifts his head and their eyes meet, and the way Jack says “ _Jesus _, Kenny,” all breathy and full of want, sends a fiery lick of arousal through Kent, and, well. Kent loses it, too; he buries his face in Jack’s ass and presses the flat of his tongue against Jack’s asshole, lapping around the entrance, sucking the skin into his mouth. His own cock is almost painfully hard, but he ignores it in favor of sliding his hands up and down Jack’s back and sides, feeling Jack’s quivering body as Kent’s tongue circles his asshole.__

__And then he presses his tongue in, and Jack’s hips jerk back in an aborted motion, like he was trying to stop himself from pressing his ass into Kent’s face again, the polite fucker that he is. But Kent tugs on Jack’s hips, discards the pillow and urges him to his knees, then presses his tongue back into Jack’s ass. He pulls Jack’s hips back in sync with his tongue sliding in and out of his asshole, and Jack gets the hint; he rocks back onto Kent’s tongue without abandon, and Kent matches his rhythm._ _

__“Jesus, Kent, you’re killing me,” Jack pants, and Kent thinks, wildly, that this is the most delicious tongue-fucking he’s ever given. It’s a _delight_ to bring this six-foot, hairy lump of muscle to the point where he’s breathless, completely wrecked, and totally at Kent’s mercy. _ _

__Kent snakes an arm around Jack and palms Jack’s cock in his hand, and Jack moans so loudly that the lacrosse bros would probably hear him next door if it wasn’t for the raging party going on over there. Kent’s strokes are fast and he keeps his grip tight, just the way he knows Jack’s likes it, and he matches the pace of his wrist to the pace of his tongue. Jack comes into Kent’s palm with a muffled shout into his pillow, and he slides from his knees onto his side, breathing heavy._ _

__Jack always does this thing after he comes where he covers his face with his hands, like he needs to hide from the world while he catches his breath, and Kent kind of thinks it’s cute. He slides up on the bed next to Jack and pulls Jack’s hands away from his face with his own hand that’s not soiled with come. (He’d wipe it on his shirt, but he really, really likes this shirt.) Jack’s face is flushed, his pupils are dilated, and there are beads of sweat lingering at his hairline. He’s all kinds of beautiful._ _

__“I really want to kiss you, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me after where my mouth just was,” Kent says as he wipes the sweat from Jack’s brow. Jack follows the touch like a kitten being petted._ _

__Jack smiles lopsidedly, the kind of smile he only gets when he’s completely blissed out. “Not a chance,” he says, and gestures with one shaky hand to the bathroom. “Knock yourself out, bro.”_ _

__Kent heads off to the bathroom, but not before deviously wiping his hand off on Jack’s stomach._ _

__“Dude, gross,” Jack laughs as Kent enters the bathroom._ _

__Once he finds a spare toothbrush, Kent leans back into Jack’s view and says, “I just had my tongue in your ass. You can get over it.” Jack gives him the middle finger and stumbles out of the bed, ostensibly to get a towel or a shirt to wipe his stomach. Kent brushes his teeth thoroughly, but quickly; his dick is still throbbing in his boxers and he’d like to get that taken care of as soon as possible. He splashes some water on his face and wipes himself dry with what he hopes is one of Jack’s towels hanging on one of the wall hooks._ _

__Kent closes the bathroom door behind him and strips his t-shirt off. Jack is laying on his back now, watching him undress. Kent doesn’t really make a show of it, but maybe he pulls his boxers down a little slower than he usually would, and maybe he lets the soft cotton snag on his erection so that it springs free when he’s finally undressed. He drops one knee onto the bed, hoists himself so he’s hovering over Jack, and slots them together like puzzle pieces._ _

__Kent nudges Jack’s nose with his own, and smirks against Jack’s lips. “Hey,” he says, and Kent can feel Jack’s smile on his own mouth._ _

__“Hey,” Jack replies, and before he knows it, Jack’s kissing him. Jack’s still blissed out, and he kisses like it, languid and unhurried. Jack’s hand slides up from Kent’s shoulder to gently cup the back of his neck, then his face, and Kent feels like he’s being handled like treasure._ _

__Kent catches Jack’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucks it into his mouth, and he can feel more than hear Jack’s low rumble of laughter. Kent sucks harder, and when Jack moves his leg deliberately against Kent’s cock, Kent lets go of Jack’s lip with a gasp._ _

__“Very rude, Zimmermann,” he says, pressing his forehead to Jack’s, but all Jack does is smile. It’s a little infuriating._ _

__“Wanna fuck me?” Jack asks, nonchalantly, already reaching to his nightstand for lube and a condom before Kent can even answer._ _

__“Jack,” Kent says very seriously, and Jack pauses, eyebrows raised, his hand buried in the nightstand drawer. Kent presses his nose into Jack’s. “Jack, it’ll be a cold day in hell when I don’t want to fuck you.” He kisses Jack again, and this time Jack really leans into it, kissing him hard and forcefully. Jack fishes a condom and some lube out of his drawer and expertly manages to smear some lube over his fingers without taking his lips off of Kent’s._ _

__“Back up a little,” Jack says, and Kent obliges, more than happy to watch Jack open himself up with his fingers. Jack presses one finger inside himself, then another, closing his eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. It was only a few minutes ago that Kent has his tongue where Jack’s fingers are. Kent’s unable to keep his hands to himself and takes Jack’s cock in his hand. Jack hisses through his teeth -- he’s still sensitive -- but doesn’t push Kent away, and Kent strokes him to hardness as Jack fucks himself open._ _

__“Hey! Teamwork,” Kent says wryly. Jack snorts, and pulls his fingers out._ _

__“I’m ready.”_ _

__Kent rolls the condom onto his dick and Jack pulls him closer, kisses him fast and hard. They move together, wordlessly in sync; Kent lines himself up and Jack wraps his legs around Kent, anchoring himself by pressing his heels into Kent’s back, urging him forward. Kent pushes in, slowly at first, until Jack grunts and mutters “Hurry up,” into Kent’s neck. Kent snaps his hips back and slams into Jack, hard, again and again, and Jack throws his head back and moans, and it feels fucking amazing -- not just fucking Jack, but being the one to make him fall apart like that._ _

__Kent leans back on his knees, pulling Jack with him so that Jack’s heels are resting on Kent’s shoulders. Kent has an ankle in each hand, and he kisses one tenderly as he fucks Jack, quickly enough that Jack might not even notice. Jack’s too busy fisting himself in his hand anyway. Kent loves watching Jack during sex because he just looks so _obscene_. His hair is rumpled, eyes squeezed closed, his cheeks are red, his lips are glistening with saliva, and he’s tweaking a nipple with one hand while fisting his cock in the other. It’s Jack Fucking Zimmermann and he’s filthy and beautiful, and it’s all for Kent._ _

__His orgasm sneaks up and surprises him, and makes him see stars. He pulls out of Jack, who protests with a whimper, but Kent wraps his own fist around Jack’s cock, too, and together they bring him off with one, two, three strokes, come splattering up onto Jack’s stomach._ _

__Kent flops down next to Jack, and throws an arm over his chest. Jack doesn’t cover his face, this time, but instead presses a soft kiss against Kent’s forehead, and Kent can’t help but smile._ _

__“Hey, Jack. We make a pretty good team sometimes, huh?”_ _

__Kent feels Jack’s lips curve into a smile against his forehead. “Just shut up and cuddle me, Kent.”_ _

___/ _/ _/ _/_ _

__“Hey, Kent...what did you mean before about how I have a Twitter?”_ _

___end_ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> [join me in hockey hell](http://captainmander.tumblr.com/)


End file.
